Almost everybody who was at USC at the same time as me is now doing something incredible.
Example of the day: Marianne Williams, who lived in the house right next door to my crack house in college, is now doing a great solo thang called On Holiday. It’s evolved in the last couple years from lo-fi recordings of her singing in front of the piano to a more fleshed-out, laptop-and-band kinda show, and she’s starting to play out more around L.A.
L.A. Record’s Nikki Darling interviewed her a couple weeks back (I know, there’s a long-time rumor that Ms. Darling wrote some article about Mr. T’s Bowl almost a decade ago in which she outed the club for its extremely lax policies about carding, causing T’s to get raided and effectively ending an era of underage bliss. But I’m not one to spread rumors.) and it’s a pretty good read. I’m excited to see what happens as her “new” project grows larger.
I’d seen her previous project, Pocket Rockers, a bunch of times a couple years back. They were good, but they were kinda… disjointed, I guess I’d say. They pulled their songs in so many different directions, that they kind of pulled themselves apart. With Marianne as unquestioned leader of On Holiday, her womanly, etherial vocals are going to be the focal point, and I envision a more cohesive, but still definitely open and layered sound, comin’ out of those shows. Something tells me we’re into something good.
P.S. I’m re-reading the interview on L.A. Record. How did she live next to Colonial House and not know what meth looked like?
oh wow, who the fuck are you? this is awesome. and i did write that article. the messed up thing was that i was actually 19 when i wrote it and i ruined for myself as well. i guess i’ll use this opportunity to say, im sorry. hopefully everyone is of age now.
glue magazine, 1999, if anyone wants to search it out.
Marianne rules.
i think i was on so much acid i thought the meth was was porn
yeh! mrnn rulz. the show at charlie o’s was awzm.
[tlr]
I hate it when my porn turns into meth.
We lived next to a crack house? Was it the crazy dilapidated and unquestionably haunted “fixer-upper” across the street? I knew something was up with that dog.
p.s. on holiday rocks